


Gunslingers

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gun Kink, M/M, Object Insertion, Pain Slut!Sam, Painplay, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had wanted something longer, with a narrower barrel but Sam had talked him into this; really, they’re both going to get so much more out of it if they use Dean’s 1911.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunslingers

Cool wood against his back, Sam closes his eyes against the bright lights above him. He can feel the stick of his sweat just starting where the curve at the base of his spine touches the table. His toes curl over the edge, knees spread embarrassingly wide and he’s extremely grateful that no one has plans to return for a few days; at least there’s no risk of anyone but Dean seeing him like this. 

 

Gentle fingers push more lube into him, spreading it around with a slow twist and a few shallow thrusts. Dean’s taking his time to stretch Sam well, and Sam shivers when he lets himself think about why. 

 

If he cranes his head, he’d be able to see the pearl-handled gun that Dean has always favored laying on the table just next to his right foot. Dean cleaned it just this morning, metal gleaming under the lighting of the war room. They’d talked about this for a while, debating how to do it, if they even should, and what gun would be the best choice. Dean had wanted something longer, with a narrower barrel but Sam had talked him into this; really, they’re both going to get so much more out of it if they use Dean’s 1911. 

 

“Dean, come on,” Sam says softly, voice carrying in the quiet room. He rolls his hips to push his brother’s fingers deeper into himself, clenching a little just to hear Dean moan. 

 

“Don’t wanna hurt you, Sammy.” 

 

“You won’t. I’ll tell you if I need to stop. I promise.” 

 

Dean looks up to meet Sam’s gaze and runs a hand down the skin of his inner thigh. Sam gives his brother the moment, smiling softly. 

 

“Alright. I think you’re ready then, huh?” 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, Dean, please.” 

 

Dean holds the gun up so Sam can watch him coat it in lube, and Sam leans up so he can watch as Dean presses it to his hole. There’s a drag, the irregular pressure of the sight that pops into the tight softness of Sam’s ass. He groans at the sensation, losing himself to the feeling of unforgiving metal slowly parting his tender insides. 

 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, feeling tears pooling up and trying to fight them back cause damnit Dean is going to  _ stop _ if he sees them - 

 

“Sam?” 

 

“Don’t stop, Dean, hurts but it’s fucking good pleasedon’tstop.” Sam feels like he can barely catch his breath. The pain is bright and sharp and good on the push in. It fades as Dean draws the barrel of the gun out and is less when he pushes it back in. He’s careful, so very careful as he fucks Sam slowly with his gun, applying more lube even though there’s a puddle of it glistening on the table top. 

 

Sam wants to writhe with every drag of metal over his prostate, feels the scream caught in his throat, but all the can do is pant breathily and whine. His fingers scrabble at the table, and he wishes they’d put down a towel if only for him to have something to cling to. 

 

“Sammy, Sam touch yourself, I can’t, I gotta-” 

 

Tipping his head up enough to see his brother’s face, Sam realizes Dean is concentrated on the thrusts of the gun, fixated on the barrel disappearing into the pink of Sam’s ass. He reaches a trembling hand out to grip his cock, stroking slowly. It only takes him a couple pumps to come, hole spasming around the gun and he can feel every curve of the barrel. 

 

Orgasm leaves him weak and trembling and Sam’s reaching for Dean before he realizes it. Dean pulls out the gun slowly, checking Sam for injury before scrambling up on the table too. He kneels between Sam’s legs, fingers fumbling to undo his belt, and Sam just watches as his brother jerks himself, spilling quickly over Sam’s heaving stomach. 

 

Dean drops down, pressing his face to Sam’s neck and Sam doesn’t miss the little whimper his brother gives. They lay like that for a while, until their bodies stop shaking and the sweat on their skin cools. Sam can already feel the ache in his ass, the one that always leaves him feeling like he wants more even though it’ll hurt. 

 

When Dean finally slides off the table, Sam sits up enough to reach down, pushing two fingers into himself. He’s sore for sure, hole blazingly hot from friction as he pets his fingertips over the outside. 

 

“Goddam, Sam.” Dean’s red-faced, lips bitten-looking and eyes still dark. 

 

Sam grabs the gun and lube from the table, ignoring the smears of sweat and lube left behind. He strokes Dean back to hardness once they’re on their bed, riding him and pressing the lube-sticky barrel to his brother’s throat, watching in dark delight as Dean’s eyes roll back into his head. 

 


End file.
